Page 23 of Something Like Forever
Tim remained still, notwanting to get excited until certain he understood. “They’re goingto need a lot of art.”
“Indeed they are. If onlyI knew of a gallery willing to accommodate such anenterprise.”
Any gallery would leap atthe opportunity. Marcello didn’t need a favor, he was offering one.They had set up the Eric Conroy Gallery together, but Tim was theone who ran it, interacted with customers and artists, and did thebookkeeping. Marcello helped with fundraising, and boy would thisraise some funds!
“Wait, they’re willing topay, right?”
“Oh absolutely,” Marcellosaid, eyes twinkling as he took another sip. “They want to startwith twenty or so pieces, but I’m certain I can talk them intotwice that many.”
Tim laughed maniacally,thinking of all the artists this would help. Not just financially.Simply being able to say that one of the biggest companies in theworld had bought and was displaying their work… That would be goodfor resumes, wallets, and egos alike! “That’s why you had me bringthe portfolio.”
Marcello nodded. “Did you forget?”
“No! Laptop is in the car.I’ll go get it.”
Marcello gestured for himto remain seated. “There will be time for that later. I’d like topresent you with another idea. These talks were very inspiring. Theidea of a community studio has me intrigued. What if we pursued thesame goal here?”
Not just for photography,but other mediums of art too. They had discussed the conceptbefore, Tim even looking for a suitable studio space to rent. Hestill remembered how, for much of his youth, he didn’t have a placeto paint. Not one where he could leave canvases to dry, or where hedidn’t need to worry about getting paint on the floor and walls.Only when his father repurposed an office space for him did he gainthat freedom. Few artists were so lucky. “I just need to find aplace we can rent that doesn’t mind a bunch of eccentric typescoming and going, or demand a ridiculous securitydeposit.”
“We already have a space,”Marcello said. “The back rooms of the current gallery. Two are usedfor storage. We can relocate the contents elsewhere.”
“That could work,” Timsaid, nodding slowly. “As long as it doesn’t disturb thecustomers.”
“Incorrect. The customers would be invited totourthe studio space!We’ll make it a feature that sets the Eric Conroy Gallery apart.Where else can you see art in progress, or offer to buy a pieceeven before its completion?”
People would love that!Sales would skyrocket. Tim was starting to worry they wouldn’t haveany art left to exhibit, but that was a good problem to have. Heonly had one lingering concern. “Never let the bloodshow.”
Marcello smiled. “Thatonly refers to my own. Most artists are already bleeding all overthe place. I simply want to help them earn a living while doing so.I’ve changed my mind. I’m too excited to wait! Would you mindfetching your laptop?”
“I’ll be right back!” Timsaid, hopping to his feet.
“I don’t suppose your ownart is included in the portfolio?” Marcello called.
Tim stopped and turnedaround. He did keep digital images of his paintings, simply becauseit was easier to browse a file folder than to yank open drawerafter drawer in search of a particular piece. “Yeah, most of it ison there. Why?”
“I’m a fan of your work,”Marcello said pleasantly. “I can’t imagine not including a piece ortwo in this endeavor.”
His art? Hanging in aJapanese studio? Yeah, this was definitely going to be good for afew egos, including his own! His only concern was, when it came toMarcello, few things were as simple as they firstseemed.
Chapter Four
Ben stood in the left wingof the stage, out of sight of the audience, and fidgeted nervously.Not that long ago, he had wished for the globe to stop spinning sofast. Lately he had been wanting it to hurry up, eager for this dayto come. Now he just wanted it to be over. He normally lookedforward to Valentine’s Day. Ben was all about love, so naturally anentire day dedicated to it was right up his alley. No punintended.
Of course, mostValentine’s Days didn’t involve dropping off his son at the airportand watching him try to hide tears while Ben did the same. At leasthe was finally on his way to Oregon. For just a short trip, but itwas progress. While that was positive news, the rest of the day hadbeen frustrating. He usually made sure to have this evening off,but the star of the show had quit unexpectedly, and Ben was theonly person dumb enough to take his place. What’s worse, this playdidn’t have any songs. Ben wasn’t a good actor. He got by, but theaudience was only forgiving when he busted out the tunes. Withouthis singing voice, he was a lackluster performer whose solestrength was making the other actors on stage look good bycomparison.
Jason hadn’t texted. Notsince they dropped him off. He would have arrived hours ago, sowhat was taking so long? Ben listened to the actors on stage,trying to determine how far away his next entrance was. Just a fewminutes. Was that enough time to run back to the dressing room tocheck his phone?
“You’re doing great!”Brian whispered, patting him on the shoulder. “Thank you for doingthis!”
He had said a variation ofthe same thing every night for the past week. Ben couldn’t be angryat the theater owner though. He liked him too much. Brian was asweetheart who just happened to be married to his best friend. Benhad seen countless times how Brian doted on her, willing to doanything in his power to keep Allison happy. In return, Ben wantedto do the same for him, but he felt he was letting the mandown.
“I’m bombing out there,”Ben whispered back. “Did you hear how many laughs I got during thedinner scene?”
“Erm, yes,” Brianresponded carefully. “It sounds like people are havingfun.”
“There wasn’t a singlejoke in that scene!” Ben shot back. “I’m ruining it!”
“You’re doing great,”Brian said, eyes on the stage. “You’ve always been too hard onyourself. Oh! You’re up!”
